Popeye Would Approve

My farewell dish from Giada at Home was Orecchiette with Greens, Garbanzo Beans, and Ricotta Salata (pg 81). This is an excellent way to get yourself to eat loads of leafy greens, but the recipe is a blank slate that needs some work. It's pretty bland, as written, but plenty could be done to improve it.

First you cook two crushed garlic cloves in oil until they're brown, then remove them. As I discarded them, I thought, "Wait! Why would I get rid of the garlic??" As someone who is perfectly happy eating garlic raw, this pasta needed more than garlic-flavored oil.

Cook a butt-load of swiss chard and baby spinach in the oil, then add cherry tomatoes and garbanzo beans. Mix lemon zest and some ricotta salata cheese into the pasta, stir in the veg, then add more cheese on top. I never had this cheese before. It's pretty salty, so it was the predominant flavor. As you can see, any number of things could be done to this pasta to improve it. Fresh herbs, more zest, lemon juice, some onions, garlic, etc. The only real appeal of this is that it gets you to eat lots of green things.

Conclusion: Just Okay. This is nothing special. A dull note for Giada to go out on, but I won't hold it against her.

Meatloaf, Shmeatloaf, Double Beetloaf.

Quick, name that movie reference!

I hate meatloaf. I've eaten versions that I've hated more, and versions that I've hated less, but none that I really enjoy, though my mother-in-law's, wrapped in bacon, comes pretty close.

Despite my distaste for it, long before I started this blog, I tried Giada's recipe for Turkey Meatloaf with Feta and Sun-Dried Tomatoes (pg 120) for two reasons. 1) It's a departure from any other meatloaf I've had and 2) my mother-in-law had gifted me with a meatloaf pan, so I figured I should use it once. What, you may ask, is a meatloaf pan? It's a loaf pan with an insert. There are holes in the bottom of the insert so that the grease can drain out of the meat. Maybe that would be beneficial for a loaf made with fattier meats, but it turned the turkey meatloaf into a dry brick. Still, the idea of this recipe intrigued me enough that I wanted to try it again, in a normal pan.

I'm trying to use up stuff we have in the fridge before heading to NY to visit my family next week, so this recipe took care of parsley, a chunk of feta, and the rest of the slow-roasted tomatoes I made from Around My French Table earlier this week. You're supposed to add 1/4 cup of olive oil to the meat, which just so happened to be the amount of oil the tomatoes were packed in, so I used that for extra flavor. I'm guessing that adding the oil compromises any idea you may have of this being healthier than a standard meatloaf. Olive oil is probably a better type of fat than that in ground meat and bacon, but it certainly ups the calories. Oh well. It's necessary to keep the meat moist. Mix these things with breadcrumbs, eggs, garlic, salt, and pepper, combine the mixture with ground turkey, and bake.

Think we liked it?

I'm happy to say that this time around, the meatloaf was SO GOOD. It stayed moist, and the flavor from the chopped tomatoes disbursed evenly throughout the meat. The chunks of feta melted enough to infuse the meat, but stayed firm enough that there were still lovely solid cheesy bites. Charlie, who refuses to eat meat, no matter how I prepare it, ate half an adult-sized slice of this, which made me very happy.

Conclusion: Loved this. I can see myself making it pretty regularly.

Just in case you're wondering, I didn't get around to cooking the French Fridays with Dorie selection this week. I just didn't feel motivated. It was Cold Melon-Berry Soup, which I already made for Mother's Day. I planned to play with turning it into a pitcher of boozy goodness, and maybe I would have if we had some company or something, but the occasion didn't really present itself this week. Oh well.

Oh, and that movie reference is from A Christmas Story, which is one of the greatest movies of all time, Christmas-themed or otherwise.

See? I Told You She Had Long Titles

Chicken and Shrimp with Pancetta Chimichurri (pg 118) may have suffered from inaccurate expectations on my part, or maybe it was just bad.

I've never had chimichurri. The closest I've gotten to it is watching Tony Bourdain talk about it on Travel Channel. This tasted like salad dressing, which shouldn't have surprised me, since it's a butt-load of olive oil (what a waste of a cup of oil), red wine vinegar, processed with parsley, oregano, garlic, and lemon juice. Is chimichurri supposed to taste like a vinaigrette? If it is, then I guess this was a successful one, and now I know I don't like it. If it's not supposed to taste like salad dressing, this failed utterly.

I curse thee, chimichurri.

I omitted the shrimp, because I'm on a budget this week, and just grilled up chicken, seasoned with salt, pepper, and oregano. This took forever and the cutlets were burning on the outside long before they cooked in the middle. The kitchen filled with smoke. When I expressed concern as to how this was going to taste, Matt said, "I have to admit, it doesn't smell good." No, it did not. The only good thing about this was the browned pancetta sprinkled on top. Not even baconish meat can save this.

To make matters worse, I had to eat mine cold, because I was pushing up on my wee laddy's bedtime, and he pitched a fit just as we sat down to eat.

Conclusion: Have to say, I hated this.

Chicken Milanese with Tomato and Fennel Sauce

Man, Giada's recipes have long titles. If my family invented Chicken Milanese with Tomato and Fennel Sauce (pg 113), we'd probably call it "Breadcrumbed Chicken with Glop." Exotic, no?

This is a pretty standard recipe for breadcrumbed chicken: dredge in flour, then egg, then breadcrumbs. She adds dried basil, dried thyme, and a load of Parmesan cheese to the breadcrumbs. Upon ripping apart my fridge, I discovered I was out of Parmesan. Bummer. I added a touch of salt to the breadcrumbs and moved on, pan-frying the cutlets in vegetable oil.

Crunchy goodness

The sauce is what makes this dish different from the breadcrumbed chicken I grew up with. Once the chicken is done and removed, add a touch of olive oil to the pan drippings, then cook sliced fennel until soft. Add halved cherry tomatoes, garlic, and fresh thyme. Remove it from heat and add some mascarpone cheese.

I had no idea what the sauce would taste like. It was creamy, with a nice, light sweetness. I always expect fennel to taste as full-on licorice cooked as it does raw, and I'm always surprised when it doesn't. You'd think I'd learn by now.

Conclusion: A good, strong Liked It. It was good as it was, and adding all that Parmesan that I was missing would, of course, only make it better, because Parmesan kicks ass.

Grilled Vegetable, Herb, and Goat Cheese Sandwiches

I look for any excuse to pay good ol' Dorie a visit in Around My French Table, so when I saw that the recipe for Grilled Vegetable, Herb, and Goat Cheese Sandwiches (pg 56) in Giada at Home required sun-dried tomatoes, Dorie's recipe for Slow-Roasted Tomatoes (pg 342) seemed like the perfect replacement.

Like many of Dorie's recipes, the tomatoes are simple as can be. Halve cherry tomatoes. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, a drizzle of olive oil, some rosemary or thyme sprigs (I did both), and a few cloves of smashed, unpeeled garlic. Stick them in the oven on low heat for a few hours. They come out richly tangy and sweet/tart. To store the leftovers, she says they'll keep for a few weeks if you top them with oil and refrigerate. Once the tomatoes are gone, she suggests using the oil for salad dressing. Will do!

My camera refused to focus on the tomatoes. They're prettier than they look here.

Conclusion: Love. These would be a flavor-packed addition to all sorts of pasta dishes, and I'm daydreaming about topping a nice, juicy burger with them. mmmmm

Now, on to the sandwich! I'm going to say up front that this was unexpectedly delicious. I thought it would be good, but it's one of those examples of all the components coming together to make a better whole. The quality of the ingredients is a huge factor in this sandwich, and between Dorie's tomatoes, my homemade bread, and the fresh goat cheese that I bought from a brand new vendor at my weekend farmer's market, it was shockingly good.

Feed my face.

First you mix together the chopped up tomatoes, a good bit of oil, fresh basil, tarragon, and thyme. I used oregano instead of tarragon, because my plant is enormous. Slice a zucchini and a Japanese eggplant lengthwise, then coat the slices in the oil/herb/tomato mixture. Grill them.

To assemble the sandwich, smear the remaining tomato mixture and then the goat cheese on the slices of bread. This was harder than I expected, because the goat cheese didn't want to adhere. I'd let it warm up a little next time, so it's more spreadable. Layer the grilled veg on one side of the sandwich, and put some spinach on the other side. Smash together, and devour.

Conclusion: Loved this, with the caveat that it needs to have superior ingredients. It wouldn't be as great with a supermarket baguette and a jar of sun-dried tomatoes. We had this for dinner, and I didn't miss meat. Matt said he would accept not eating meat for dinner because he'd had a pulled pork sandwich for lunch. Eye roll.

Giada's Final Lap

Giada at Home has the finish line in its sights, so I'm trying to plow through as many of the remaining recipes as I can.

I cooked up Pancetta and Cinnamon Waffles (pg 228) for breakfast yesterday. They're pretty self-explanatory. Add diced, browned pancetta and cinnamon to a boxed waffle mix, and top it with toasted walnuts (I used almonds) and maple syrup. I enjoyed this, but prefer normal, homemade waffles with a little vanilla extract in the batter. The nuts bothered Matt. I liked them. These won't be replacing plain old waffles, but they're nice for a change once in a while.

Yep. That is, in fact, a waffle.

Conclusion: Liked it. Nothing mind-blowing.  It's exactly what you expect it to be from the title.

Dinner was Grilled Salmon with Citrus Salsa Verde (pg 132). While I know that parsley and mint are green, in my unprofessional opinion, I don't feel that their presence defines something as a salsa verde. To me, salsa verde=tomatillos and cilantro. The word salsa is altogether misleading here, compared to the end product. What do I know?

Where's the "verde" in my citrus salsa verde?

 If this were simply called Citrus Grilled Salmon, I would have nothing to complain about. It's light and refreshing and delicious.

Brushing maple syrup or amber agave nectar on the salmon before grilling helps it brown with beautiful crusty grill-marks, without making it taste of maple. 

The "salsa verde" has oranges, lemon juice and zest, oil, scallions, capers, crushed red pepper flakes, parsley, and mint. The pepper flakes gave the salsa the slightest bit of spice, but it was mostly sweet.

Conclusion: Liked it. The oranges I had were okay, but not the greatest ever. The better the orange, the better this dish.

Roast Beef and Tomaters

You'd never know it by looking at her, but Giada sure does like her mayonnaise. From the way these recipes are portioned, she must slather an inch of mayo on everything she touches.

Roasted Beef Tenderloin with Basil-Curry Mayonnaise (pg 109) was a snap to make. Crush cumin and coriander seeds, then toast them. Make a paste of garlic and salt, then add the spices and some oil and stir until smooth. Smear it all over the meat. I used a modest eye round roast instead of a tenderloin. I roasted it for a few minutes less than Giada says, because mine weighed a bit less than specified, and it cooked to a perfect medium rare.

She pairs the meat with mayo mixed with mascarpone, curry, smoked paprika, and fresh basil. The recipe, as written, would produce well over a cup of mayo. I made an eighth of the recipe, and it's more than I will ever use.

There are too many round things on this plate.

I prefer the meat without the mayo. On its own, just with the spice rub, this beef was delicious. Spicy and garlicky and salty. The mayo tasted mostly of curry. Didn't love it and I didn't think it improved the meat. That said, I could see it being a nice component of a sandwich with cold leftovers.

Conclusion: The meat gets a solid, resounding "like." As I said, I don't like the mayo, but the meat itself is good enough that I won't let it detract from my rating.

To go with the beef, I made Roasted Tomatoes with Garlic, Gorgonzola, and Herbs (pg 155). I substituted feta for the gorgonzola because I had half a cake of it in the fridge. I think gorgonzola, with its stronger flavor, would work better.

Halve and seed a tomato. Roll the tomato halves around in oil, garlic, salt and pepper. Mix the cheese and bread crumbs together, then fill the tomato and bake.

Conclusion: Just okay, but I reserve the right to adjust that ruling when I try it with gorgonzola. There was nothing especially remarkable about this, but it would be a good use of overflow tomatoes if your plants have run amok and you don't know what else to do with them.

Bland Soup and a Sugar Rush

Giada's Butternut Squash Soup with Fontina Cheese Crostini (pg 52) was a huge disappointment. Blech. This recipe differs from any other butternut squash soup recipe I've made in a couple of ways, and now that I've tasted the result, I can confidently say that none of these differences are for the better.

First key variation: instead of cutting the squash in half and roasting it, which I think imparts a deeper, more caramelized flavor to it, she instructs you to peel, cube, and boil it in chicken stock with a carrot, an onion, and some garlic. Ever peel a squash? They're slippery little buggers. I don't know what the hell happened to my hand during this stage of the process--whether it's an allergic reaction or the wax adhered to it--but after I washed my hands, the one that had been holding the squash was shiny and tight. I spent the day rubbing at it, and now it's mostly off, so I guess it was from the wax, but no amount of washing would clean it. I looked like a burn victim. Mark 1 against Giada.

Instead of the standard nutmeg/clove/ginger type spices that are usually used in butternut squash soup, Giada uses a whole heap of fresh sage. I've never used fresh sage before, so I had no expectation of how it would turn out. The herb smelled pungent, so I worried that it would overwhelm the dish. I needn't have been concerned. This soup tastes like nothing. In a blind taste test, I doubt I could identify it as butternut squash. That's messed up.

It's meant to be served with fontina and sage topped crostini. I just shredded the fontina on top of my soup, because I didn't have crusty bread. Again, ew. I've never had fontina. B-L-A-N-D.

Fail.

Conclusion: Dislike. Yuck, yuck, yuck. I froze some of it for Charlie, but the bulk, I'm sorry to say, set sail on a fateful voyage down the drain. What a waste.

To end the day on a better note, I decided to make Candied Cherries (pg 250) from Ready for Dessert. Lebovitz says that they keep for at least six months in the fridge, so I figured I could make them now, while cherries are in season, and have them through the Fall without actually having to eat much of it today. I've recently become fascinated with the idea of preserving food, so this was me dipping my toe in. I'm kind of confused as to how these keep for so long without boiling the filled jars, or any of the other botulism-prevention methods that people use for jelly. Anybody know the science of preserves? Would the boiling/vacuum seal action be for things that you intend to keep longer than six months? Am I going to die if I eat these in November?

I doubled the recipe, because two cups of cherries didn't look like much. I'm glad I did, because even though the original recipe says it will yield two cups of product, my four cups of cherries only yielded two cups of product. Not sure what happened there. It doesn't seem like the type of thing that could be so drastically off, unless cherries in France are the size of golf balls. 

Pit the cherries, then cook them with water, half a lemon, and sugar for 15-20 minutes. I wish he specified that it would take a lot longer if you were doubling the recipe. He gives advice on doubling elsewhere (ie to use a half a lemon instead of just a squirt), so there would have been a place for it. Fortunately, he provided a target temperature, so I relied on the candy thermometer to tell me when it was done. Before you pour it in your jar, you have the option of adding a touch of amaretto. Well, if I must.

Taking my aunt's advice about using turbinado sugar instead of granulated sugar in fruit recipes to tone down the sweetness, I used turbinado. Holy moly. I should have halved it. I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but this was so sweet that I could feel my eyebrows vibrate. I was afraid to cut the sugar, because I didn't know if it would "candy" properly with less. I'd try it next time, though.

A little bit of these cherries and syrup goes a long way. It was more pleasant drizzled on a little scoop of vanilla frozen yogurt, rather than eaten straight. Lebovitz suggests a number of ways to use these cherries, including to spoon some over lemon desserts. I wouldn't have thought of that, but think it would work perfectly. Warm vanilla pudding would be good, too.

Conclusion: Liked it. I would definitely fiddle with the sugar next time, but it makes me happy to know that I have a lovely jar of cherries waiting patiently for me in the back of my fridge.

A Dessert to Celebrate My New Stove

For the past few months, I've only been able to use the two small burners on my stove. The big ones were busted. I asked my landlord to fix or replace it months ago. First they were waiting for a good used range to appear, then they were waiting for a sale on new stoves, and finally they bought one. It was delivered last week, but there was one small problem. The stove was about half a foot too short for the counter, so the delivery men took it back until someone came in to build up the floor. I nearly lost it. Long story short, as of this afternoon, my shiny new stove is installed and working, and I've cleaned all the sawdust out of my kitchen.

We have a giant tub of mediocre blueberries sitting in the fridge, so one of Giada's dessert recipes caught my eye, because these berries aren't good for anything but sauce. The recipe is for Ricotta with Vanilla-Sugar Croutons and Berry Syrup (pg 175). I made a few variations.

I omitted the croutons altogether, because I didn't feel like going overboard with the dessert. Sweetened cheese and fruit sounded healthier in my head than sweetened cheese and fruit and buttered, sugared bread.

I undermined my own efforts at healthfulness. I needed mascarpone cheese for the recipe I'm making for dinner tomorrow, so I decided to use that instead of ricotta, rather than buying both. I'd never had mascarpone on its own before, but I knew that it was used in tiramisu, and I've seen Giada use it a lot on tv, so I figured it would work just fine. What I didn't realize was that mascarpone tastes like a solid version of heavy cream. I haven't looked at the nutritional stats on the package, because I was already in, but I'm sure they're not in the same ballpark as ricotta.

The instructions say to make vanilla sugar by whirring the contents of a vanilla bean with sugar in the food processor. I didn't feel like buying vanilla beans, so I just added some extract and sugar to the cheese. Then, you zest an orange and a lemon into the cheese. YUM.

For the sauce, dissolve sugar in the juice of the lemon and orange. I used half the sugar that Giada calls for, and I'm glad I did, because it was quite sweet. Honestly, I could have halved the amount that I did use, and I think it would have still been good, if not better. Once the sugar is dissolved, add a heap of blueberries and quartered strawberries, and cook for a few minutes until they're soft.

This dessert was sooooooo good. I know the mascarpone was a mistake, calorie-wise, but man, it was good. The flavor of the cream and the zests stood up to the sweetness of the sauce. I could taste all the flavors individually and as a whole simultaneously. Matt said it was the best dessert ever. He's a blueberry fanatic, though, so take that as you will. I don't miss the croutons.

Conclusion: Loved it. I'll try it again with ricotta.

This Ain't Shrimp Cocktail

I knew that Sauteed Shrimp Cocktail (pg 34) wasn't a traditional ketchup/horseradish shrimp cocktail. I mean, the ingredients of the sauce are yogurt, mayonnaise, mustard, maple syrup, turmeric, and fresh basil leaves. Clearly Giada's scribbling outside of the lines here.

In her intro, all she says is that "the usual shrimp cocktail is served ice-cold and...is pretty flavorless." She prefers it warm. That's fine. I do, too. She says nothing about her cocktail sauce, other than that it's "an interesting combination." No it's not. It's pretty gross. It tasted like diluted mustard, with a sweet aftertaste. Weird. Matt thought it tasted okay, as long as he didn't put too much of it on the shrimp. I ate my shrimp un-dipped.

The shrimp, by itself, was seasoned with herbs de provence (which Giada seems to throw in everything), salt and pepper. Who needs to dunk perfectly good shrimp in a vat of gross mustard sauce?

I'm also shocked that Giada thinks that one pound of jumbo shrimp is enough for 4-6 servings. Matt and I got six shrimp each. So, six people would get two shrimp each. Come on. It's technically in the appetizer section, but it still seems skimpy, especially since twelve shrimp would never use up the amount of sauce the recipe makes.

Conclusion: Disliked. The only thing that saved this dish from being hated is that the shrimp, by itself, was good. The sauce was the dish, though, and the sauce was baaaaad.

Plain Old Grilled Cheese, Please.

For lunch today, I split a Mozzarella, Raspberry, and Brown Sugar Panini (pg 213) with Charlie. Neither one of us liked it much.

The recipe calls for "bakery-style white bread," but I just used regular old whole wheat bread. It instructs you to brush both sides of each slice of bread with olive oil. I only did the sides that would be hitting the panini press. I don't think these deviations caused the problems with this sandwich.

All you do is smear raspberry jelly on each slice of bread, sprinkle rosemary on, then sandwich mozzarella cheese in between the slices. Then, you sprinkle brown sugar on top of the bread, on the part that will hit the pan. I did the slightest sprinkling of sugar, because it seems excessive. Grill it in a panini press until it's golden, and voila!

Gooey

I like the idea of this sandwich, but something was not right. The bread got soggy from the jelly, and I think the mozzarella released some water once it was hot. The flavors didn't seem to come together into one delicious bite. I think I'd prefer this with a different cheese. Mozzarella doesn't have a strong enough flavor to compete with raspberry jelly and rosemary. It became raspberry flavored chewiness. Jelly is amazing on salty cheeses like a fresh Romano. Romano wouldn't melt right for a grilled cheese type of sandwich, but something with that sort of salty/tangy profile would balance things out more. Adding my little bit of brown sugar didn't make one lick of difference, so perhaps that would have been better if I'd used the proper amount. I don't think adding more sweet on top of sweet is the answer, though.

Conclusion: Just okay. Not worth it. Charlie will eat any cheese I give him (especially stinky ones!), plain or in sandwich form, but he wouldn't eat this.

Dinner was Honey-Balsamic Lamb Chops (pg 125). As far as I'm concerned, lamb is the greatest of all the meats, so something would have to be very wrong with this recipe to make me disapprove. Fortunately, it was good.

Get in mah belly!

All you do is season the chops with salt, pepper, rosemary, and a drizzle of oil, then haul out the ol' grill pan, yet again, and cook them up. In the food processor, mix balsamic vinegar, garlic, and honey. Once it's combined, with the machine running, slowly add vegetable oil. This produces a surprisingly thick sauce, and lots of it. I was too impatient to do the math to quarter the recipe, so now I have a jar of sauce in the fridge. I'm overly excited about the mason jars I bought at the supermarket yesterday. They were on sale. Don't tell Matt. haha! Every time I clear out a little nook of space in the kitchen, I find something else to fill it with. Oh well.

If you need sauce with your lamb, this is a good one. I enjoyed it. However, I realized while eating it that I never put sauce on lamb. A little garlic and rosemary is all it needs. I prefer it that way. It's tough when you're trying out recipes that mess with your favorites.

Conclusion: A good, solid Liked It.

It Had to Happen Eventually

I didn't dislike my Open-Faced Tuna Sandwich with Arugula and Sweet-Pickle Mayonnaise (pg 66), but I didn't really like it, either. It is exactly what it sounds like.

A tuna steak is seasoned with salt, pepper, and herbs de provence, then grilled. Man, Giada's been giving my grill pan a workout. I hate cleaning that thing. Non-stick, my ass. I digress. In the last minute of grilling, top the tuna with a slice of cheddar. Toast an oiled slice of ciabatta bread on the grill pan, then smear it with a mixture of mayo and diced sweet pickles. Put the tuna on the bread, and top it with arugula and a drizzle of oil.

I'm not a fan of pickles in general, or sweet pickles in particular, so I was wary of this, but when eaten as a whole, it wasn't especially pickley. Honestly, the whole sandwich was pretty bland. I found myself wishing for more pickle flavor, just so something would liven it up. It is definitely not "out-of-this-world fantastic!" as promised in the intro.

My execution wasn't great, but I don't think I'd have liked it even if it came out exactly as Giada intended. A real ciabatta, instead of supermarket bread-fluff, would have helped. Also, I overcooked the tuna. The instruction to add the cheese in the last minute of cooking the fish threw everything off. I didn't think I'd sliced especially thick slabs, but it took at least two minutes, covered, for the cheese to melt. By then, the tuna was pretty well done.

Conclusion: Just okay. This is a non-repeater.

No photo today. Didn't realize my camera battery was dead until I went to snap the picture.

Breakfast Herbs

Are you ever completely surprised by the end-product of a recipe that sounded straight-forward and easily imagined? That happened to me this morning with the Sweet Basil Smoothie (pg 209) from Giada at Home.

My basil plant is waging war against my rosemary, so this smoothie seemed like a good way to trim it back a little. First, you make a lemon syrup--water, sugar, lemon zest. Let it cool, then add it to yogurt and basil. The recipe calls for ice, but my blender is crap, so I omitted the ice and added a little milk to loosen up my Greek yogurt. Call me crazy, but I assumed that this would taste like lemon and basil. I was wrong, in the best possible way. For all that zest, the lemon was just a background note that worked with the sugar to draw floral tones from the basil. It was like drinking flowers, fresh from a field (as opposed to in an overwhelming, funeral parlor type of way).

I thought this would be greener.

I guess I've never really had basil as the primary flavor of a sweet dish before. I had one of those "WOAH!" moments, where a whole new spectrum of dessert possibilities spanned out before my eyes. (Sidenote to Yummychunklet--the basil/lemon/sugar combo would make a killer ice cream for your nifty machine). I might start throwing basil in everything, just to see what happens.

To continue my herb theme, I also baked Strawberry and Rosemary Scones. I remember seeing Giada make these on tv, and they sounded good, but I couldn't read the faces of her husband's coworkers, who she delivered them to. Either these men were really uncomfortable on camera, or they didn't like the scones. Now that I've tasted these first-hand, I've decided that they must have been uncomfortable, because these scones are f-ing delicious.

With finely chopped rosemary in the batter, a blob of strawberry jelly in the center, and lemon glaze drizzled on top, there are a lot of different flavors here, and they all work together beautifully. It's balanced. It's not like BAM! ROSEMARY! In a blind taste test, it might take me a few seconds to identify that flavor. The scones are buttery, moist, and not-too-sweet. They did spread more than I expected them to, so several of mine fused together, but that's not a big deal. I'll just know to leave more room next time.

Both of these recipes produced refreshing, happy food that made me want to go outside and lay in a hammock.

Conclusion: Love, on both counts.

Steak & Eggs, With Flair

I've never had steak and eggs. I like steak. I like eggs. I'm not opposed to the idea of putting them together, but steak never seemed like the type of food that creamy, runny yolk would improve. Hoping for a pleasant surprise, I made Giada's Grilled Tuscan Steak with Fried Egg and Goat Cheese (pg 106).

I know I've mentioned this before, but cooking steak makes me uncomfortable. I usually just let Matt do it. I gave it a go myself this time. After seasoning with salt, pepper, and herbs de provence, I grilled two rib-eyes for five minutes per side. They turned out to be a decent medium-rare. I was hoping for rare, but oh well. The instructions say to grill the steaks for 6-8 minutes per side for medium rare, but  I have no doubt that these would have been well done if I'd waited that long.

I served the steak on top of fresh arugula, according to Giada's suggestion in the intro. A fried egg tops the steak (sunny-side-up, which the recipe gives you, skeeves me out), and crumbled goat cheese tops the egg. You're supposed to throw some parsley on top, but I didn't want to buy some just for this.

So, was steak and eggs all it's hyped up to be? Honestly, I don't really see what the big deal is. The egg annoyed me a little, because the steak was quite fatty and needed a good deal of trimming, and all that stuff on top of it made it hard to see where to cut. I think I'd prefer an egg on a leaner cut.

 For me, the goat cheese tied the egg and steak together. Without it, I don't know that I'd have liked this as much as I did. It contributed a creaminess that complemented the yolk, but with a tang that went great with the steak. The cheese also balanced out the arugula, and made it pleasantly peppery, instead of overwhelmingly bitter.

Conclusion: Liked it. Matt cleaned his plate and said it would be a perfect breakfast. False. Pancakes are the perfect breakfast. No contest. That said, I can see myself working this into our rotation of standard dinners. 

You Can Never Have Too Much Garlic

I purchased an irresistibly speckled eggplant from the farmer's market on Saturday, even though I had no end-product in mind. It's been staring me down from its shelf on the fridge ever since, so I figured I'd put it out of its misery and turn it into Roasted Eggplant and White Bean Crostini (pg 22). I had no baguette, so this was less of a crostini and more of a spread for crackers.

This seems to be becoming the norm with Giada at Home, but this recipe was super easy. Cube an eggplant, toss it with oil, salt, and pepper, and roast it until it's golden. Process it with cannellini beans, parsley, lemon juice, and garlic. Add olive oil until it's smooth. That's it.

Not the most photogenic dip, is it?

The recipe only actually calls for one garlic clove, but I used three. I was afraid I'd overdone it, but my in-laws loved it, as did Charlie, which SHOCKED me. He kept licking crackers clean and handing them back to me for re-schmearing. I mean, this was really garlicky. I would tone it back in the future, but the roasty eggplant flavor did still manage to fight its way through.

Conclusion: Liked it.

My father-in-law flipped through Ready For Dessert, and ooohed over a recipe for Peach-Amaretti Crisp (pg 102). That was pretty much all the instigation I needed to plan for it before they leave on Saturday. Unfortunately, the peaches I bought were bad. They smelled good when I bought them, and I thought that they'd soften up over a few days. They did not. They were nearly as crisp as an apple. My thumb got quite the workout trying to wrest eight peach pits from the flesh's greedy suction grip.

If I had good peaches, this would have been one hell of a dessert. Delicious almondy Amaretti cookies that are food-processed with toasted almonds, flour, sugar, butter, etc, make the topping really special. Did you know that the flavor of authentic amaretti cookies is from apricot kernels, not almonds? I didn't. Good to know, David Lebovitz. Good to know.

Conclusion: Everyone else at the table loved this and thought that the peaches were just fine, but this is my blog, and I get the last word. Mwa ha haaaa! I have to put this on the low end of the "liked" column, but I found the still-tough, not-so-sweet peaches to be very detrimental. With juicy, ripe peaches, this would be great.

I Can't Resist a Sweet Italian Nonna

If Nonna Luna's Rice (pg 95) is the dish that best represents Giada's grandmother, I imagine her to be a plump, warm dumpling of a woman, always ready with a hug and a treat stashed in her pocket. Under no circumstances are you to attempt this meal if you're concerned with your weight. Honestly, you might want to stop reading now, lest you gain a pound through caloric osmosis.

Still with me? Okay. First, you toast rice for about six minutes in half a stick of butter. Don't worry, we'll use the other half before we're through. Giada says that taking the extra time to do this "gives the dish a nutty flavor that takes it from good to great." I don't think I'd go that far, but the rice did have a nutty flavor and a firmer consistency than I usually get. Once the grains are golden, you simmer the rice in chicken broth and a tablespoon of hot sauce until it's finished.

The shrimp component is equally simple. Melt the other half of your stick of butter and add some garlic. When fragrant, add the shrimp, lemon juice, and more hot sauce. Cook the shrimp through, then stir in a cup of cream. Serve the shrimp on the rice. Gain forty pounds.

I was worried that this would be really spicy, because two tablespoons of Tabasco seems like a lot to me, but it wasn't. It was so mild that Charlie ate it without any alteration. The Tabasco became a background flavor. I think the cream muted its hotness. This mostly tasted of butter and cream.

Conclusion: Liked it, though I don't expect to make this often. It's quite heavy. Excuse me while I squeeze into some fat-pants.

Veg-o-rama

Last night's dinner/2 servings of dessert sat like a rock in my belly, so I thought tonight's meal should be a little more figure-friendly. I worried as I was cooking Vegetable Parmesan (pg 160) that I should have also cooked a protein, but then decided that if people were still hungry, they could fill up on leftover apricot marzipan tart.

Fortunately, it turned out not to be a problem, and yes, we finished off the tart anyway. Much to my delight, we ate most of this triple layer, 9x13 veggie bonanza.

The most time-consuming part was grilling all of the vegetables before assembling the layers. You'd need an industrial-size grill to accomplish this in anything under an hour. It annoyed me. You toss sliced eggplant, fennel, and a variety of red, yellow, and orange peppers in oil, salt, and pepper, and then grill them for three minutes per side, until soft. Easy enough, but the process is looooong and boooooring because I had to do so many batches. Once it's all grilled, you layer eggplant, sauce, mozzarella, parmesan, peppers, sauce, mozzarella, parmesan, fennel, sauce, mozzarella, parmesan, and top with a cup of breadcrumbs. Drizzle with oil, and into the oven it goes.

This is all that's left!

I did not expect to be satisfied with this as an entree, but I was. Matt didn't even complain that there was no meat, though that might just have been because his parents were there. He has some strange notion that he can't get full if he doesn't eat meat. It makes no sense to me. My father-in-law seemed to love it. He went back for thirds. Maybe he was just hungry and pining for meat. Even Charlie ate some pieces of pepper. Until now, he's always spit pepper right out. 

Conclusion: Liked it. This was another success. There's a cook's note at the end of the recipe that says that the vegetables can also be baked in the oven for 15-20 minutes instead of grilling them. I'd go that route in the future, and expect that once that change is factored in, this would be a snap to make. Grilling so many batches of vegetables was a pain in the arse.

A Good Day For Eating

As a side dish for the steaks Matt grilled, I cooked Grilled Asparagus and Melon Salad (pg 144). I think the ratio of asparagus to toppings was a little off. The recipe calls for a quarter of a canteloupe (though I used a half--quarter didn't look like it would go very far for four people), cubes of fresh mozzarella, toasted pine nuts, and prosciutto that's been baked and then crumbled. You'd never know asparagus was hiding under this mountain of fixins, which was fine with me. I mean, I like asparagus, but I like melon and prosciutto better.

I can get behind Giada's definition of "salad."

This was excellent, though much of the glory belongs to the quality of this melon--perfectly ripe, incredibly sweet. I bought it on Saturday at the farmer's market, and it probably wouldn't have lasted until tomorrow without going soft. It literally spilled juice all over my counter when I cut it in half. Best melon ever, and eating it with crispy, bacon-ish prosciutto was a nice twist on the standard melon and prosciutto appetizer that you can get in restaurants. Not in the restaurants here in Corpus Christi, but those in more civilized places.

My only complaint about this is that the pine nuts didn't contribute anything. They were impossible to pick up with a fork and were too heavy to cling to the other components. Matt thought they might have more impact if they were broken up into pieces. I'll try that next time (or maybe "next time" will just be me, a melon, and a spoon.)

Conclusion: Liked it a lot, though it wouldn't have been AS impressive with a lesser melon. 

To top off our lovely steaks and melon--oh wait, I mean asparagus--I made an Apricot-Marzipan Tart (pg 98) from my neglected long-term project of David Lebovitz's Ready For Dessert. Oh. My. God. I don't have words to describe how delicious and unique this tart was.

I overcooked the crust a bit, but it didn't detract.

The crust is standard, with the addition of almonds that are powdered in the food processor. Sliced apricots are mixed with sugar and corn starch and poured into the crust, and that is topped with a crumbly food-processed mixture of flour, brown sugar, almond paste, almonds, and butter. The topping tastes like one of those Good Humor brand Toasted Almond ice cream bars from when we were kids. Those were always my favorite, so I could have eaten a bowl of this topping by itself. I drizzled some leftover raspberry sauce from the other night on top, and it was the perfect tart complement to the sweetness of the apricots. This and a glass of Disaronno made me a happy, happy girl.

Conclusion: Love it, love it, love it.

There's a lot of seasonal fruit used in Lebovitz's desserts, so I'm going to attempt to dip into this book a little more frequently during the summer, and hopefully I don't blow up like a balloon. I feel like a balloon tonight, but a well-satisfied one.

Pasta Ponza

I chose to make Pasta Ponza (pg 85) for dinner primarily because its name is so much fun. It's as good a reason as any, right? Also, in the intro, Giada says that it may be her favorite recipe in the book. I hope it's not my favorite recipe in the book, or else it's going to be a disappointing month. I don't expect a problem, though.

Giada definitely has a winner with this dish. It's so easy to make that it would be a keeper recipe even if it tasted half as good. All you do is cut red and yellow cherry tomatoes in half and toss them with capers, olive oil, salt, pepper, and Italian-seasoned bread crumbs in a Pyrex dish. Bake it for a half hour, then mix it and grated Romano cheese with pasta. The breadcrumbs mixed with the tomato juices to make an unexpectedly rich sauce.

It doesn't look like much, but trust me, it's good.

Conclusion: Tangy, salty, and a little sweet. I loved it.

A Fresh Start

Look at Giada, sitting over there on her immaculate white couch, all perky and pretty and fearlessly brandishing a bowl of potential tomato stains. I partially hate her for how easily she pulls off what has to be a charade of perfection, but the other, bigger part of me wants to be friends with her, or barring that, wants to emulate her. Ha. Unlikely. I don't even buy white shirts, much less dare eat pasta in them.

Lots of Giada's recipes appeal to me when she's selling them on tv, but until this point, I've only cooked from this book twice. She puts on an excellent show of enjoying her own food, but I have very little idea of how good the end product is in real life. So, without further ado, let the immersion begin!

Matt went grocery shopping on his way home from work. I don't want to put shoes on Charlie until his feet are all healed up, so I couldn't go during the day. Tonight's dinner had to be quick and easy, and Roasted Halibut With Pea and Mint Salad (pg 134) seemed to fit the bill. I'm sure you're getting sick of hearing me say this, but I should have read the directions closer, because I didn't realize the fish had to marinate in oil, garlic, and lemon juice for 30 minutes.

I did not marinate the fish, and so this was quick and easy. I coated the fish in the marinade and popped it right in the oven. Marination would have improved things, but this was still pretty good. The store had no halibut, so I used cod, which doesn't taste like much on its own. The fish stayed nice and moist following the recipe's timing, and had a subtle taste of garlic. Had it marinated, I'm sure it would have had more flavor. Even so, it tasted fresh and light (and better than anything out of the Healthy Family Cookbook. I'm sorry. I'll get over it eventually.)

The pea component of this was really good. Matt said he's never enjoyed peas so much before. I have to agree. The recipe instructs you to cook a shallot and sliced red pepper in olive oil for a few minutes. Take it off the heat and add thawed frozen peas, lemon zest, fresh thyme, and a load of mint. I was afraid it would be too minty, but it was just right.

Conclusion: Liked it. I would definitely try this again, allowing the fish to marinate.

Much to my dismay, I can not participate in this week's French Friday's With Dorie. The recipe was to be Roasted Rhubarb, which you add to cake or ice cream as a dessert. Apparently the supermarket had no rhubarb. Matt even asked someone about it. They said that the shipment they received was so awful looking that they threw it out and ordered more. I am saddened. We have raspberries and blackberries in the fridge, so I think I'll make a sauce out of those for my rhubarb-ready vanilla ice cream, since I had my heart set on dessert tonight.